


sleepless cinderella - kunhang

by starlightkun



Series: sleepless cinderella (wayv) [7]
Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Journalist Reader, Robot Builder Kunhang, kunhang is a little bitch baby, reader kicks his ass and he deserves it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:35:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26564458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightkun/pseuds/starlightkun
Summary: in which your subject for your article is absolutely insufferable. and kinda cute
Relationships: Wong Kun Hang | Hendery/Reader
Series: sleepless cinderella (wayv) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931839
Kudos: 41





	sleepless cinderella - kunhang

It was a few days later that found you hesitantly approaching the new Qian Enterprises building again, laptop bag hanging off your shoulder as you gripped your golden card in your hand. Truly, you had every intention of never coming back to this place.

But you still hadn’t figured out a topic, Xuanyi was still harassing you about taking care of yourself, Chengxiao couldn’t stop gushing on about some cute customer at her work, and you finally snapped. You felt like you were suffocating, and your head was about to explode. Unable to stand it anymore, you had grabbed your laptop before storming out of your apartment.

So that’s how you ended up here. The doorman—who was honestly dressed much nicer than you—held open the door cordially for you, and you thanked him quietly. There were a couple people at the front desk who gave you friendly greetings, and you mumbled something coherent back to them as you changed course for the elevator. After swiping your card like Mr. Qian had showed you, you took the short and quiet elevator ride up to the top floor.

You let out a small groan of relief when you saw that the lounge was empty. Maybe you really could get some work done here. There was a high-top table against one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that you decided to set up shop on. Perched on one of the stools, you opened your laptop, taking a deep breath as that familiar stark white page glared back at you.

Well, you’ve yet to even write your name on the document. That, you could definitely do. After typing your name, you found that same sense of defeat returning. Your gaze drifted out the window, finally taking in the view that the penthouse provided. The last time you were here, it was dark, and you were a little too preoccupied by the other VIP lounge members to really soak it all in.

The city was all laid out in front of you. You swore you could see half of Hong Kong from up there. And yet you still found yourself looking down, not over at the expansive horizon. But instead at the area surrounding the building that you knew was populated by a substantial amount of homeless people.

Hey, that’s an idea.

You had just typed out a brief phrase of your idea when the elevator dinging caught your attention. Watching the door open with intrigue, the person that stepped off made you internally groan. Just when you thought your day was maybe kind of starting to look up.

You ignored Kunhang’s presence, still not forgetting how much of a jerk he was the night you met him. Second chances? Only if they ask nicely, in your opinion.

“Oh. You came back.”

There was no way you could’ve missed the disdain in his voice as he addressed you.

“Yep.”

You gave a short and curt reply.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was _trying_ to work.”

“On what?”

For a supposed genius, he clearly wasn’t getting the message that you didn’t want to talk to him.

“My final piece before I graduate.”

Kunhang glanced at your screen over your shoulder as he walked by you, “Looks like you’ve gotten really far.”

You rolled your eyes, hearing him rustling around behind the snack bar in the corner. Despite your lack of a response, he decided to keep talking.

“Homeless in Hong Kong?” He said mockingly, his voice turning judgmental, “Boring.”

“They’re not boring!”

The man sat himself down on the couch beside your table, reclining into a half-sitting, half-laying position, “Fine, it’s trite. I read something like that two days ago.”

Thoroughly annoyed, you finally looked at him, scowl already on your face, “Alright, Mr. Genius, since you apparently know everything about journalism too, what _should_ I do my piece on?”

He tossed a peanut up in the air, catching it in his mouth before focusing a practically devilish grin towards you, “Me.”

You snorted, about to come back with an equally pissy retort. But you stopped yourself, genuinely thinking over this for a moment. Sure, so far, he seemed like an arrogant dickwad, but according to the others, he was some kind of successful mechanical engineer, as well as being a young prodigy in the field. A research piece into him, whatever company he works for, and his projects could actually be an interesting read. Besides, he was right, the topic was rather overused, and you didn’t have enough passion about it to write a worthwhile piece that would do it justice.

“Alright,” you agreed brightly, deleting your previous words off your document.

Kunhang nearly choked on the peanut he had just caught while you had been perusing this idea, shooting up to a sitting position to properly stare you dead in the face, “What?”

“Alright, I’ll do my piece on you,” you repeated, not missing the look of dread that fell over his face. “Well, not just you, I was thinking maybe also the company you work for and whatever projects you’re working on right now.”

“I wasn’t—”

You blinked innocently, and he cut himself off with a disgruntled sigh.

“I’m heading back to the lab in fifteen minutes.”

As he tossed another peanut up in the air, you broke into a victorious smirk, fingers typing out your new topic.

_‘insufferable bastard that builds robots’_

* * *

“Why’re you being so pissy about this? You’re the one who offered,” you informed Kunhang as you followed behind him towards his lab, your newly-acquired visitor’s badge hanging around your neck.

Ever since you’d entered the building his lab was contained in, he had converted back to being cold and aloof. You weren’t quite sure which version of him you preferred, the insufferable bastard who wouldn’t leave you alone in the lounge today, or the man with a stick up his ass that you’d met the other night.

Kunhang brought out his own ID badge to scan to open a door, and you had to dart through right behind him as to not have it slam shut on you, “If you had more than two braincells, you would’ve been able to understand that I was kidding.”

“Oh yes, my dumbass self could never understand the fine intricacy of your genius-level humor.”

He didn’t reply, stopping at another door to scan his badge through. This time on the other side, instead of a long hallway like before, there was a room that looked like a small warehouse. In one corner, small bursts of sparks were coming up from a workbench as a woman seemed to be soldering something. In the middle of the room was another workbench that Kunhang made a beeline for.

You followed, focusing on what was on his workbench. Amongst all the tools, scrap pieces of metal, stray circuits, and other miscellaneous items, was a little robot. It stood about half a foot tall, and you couldn’t quite figure out what its purpose was.

Just as you were about to ask Kunhang, the woman looked up from her own workspace, seeming almost distressed as she spotted you, “Uhm! Wong, who is that?”

“Y/N,” he replied blandly, sitting in front of the robot and bending down to be eye-level to it.

“That’s not what I meant,” she rolled her eyes, and you were almost happy that he pissed other people off as much as he pissed you off.

Realizing that he wouldn’t be very helpful, you decided to introduce yourself, bowing to her, “My name’s Y/L/N Y/N. I’m a journalism graduate student at the University of Hong Kong, and I was hoping to do a piece on Kunhang, the lab, and the projects being worked on.”

She still didn’t seem very pleased about this, “Keep my name out of your article, and you’re more than welcome to do it.”

“I will, thank you,” you bowed to her again as she continued her work.

Hesitantly, you sat across from Kunhang, taking out your small notepad and pencil from your laptop case. You scratched down a few observations of the lab, mind still on the woman.

“Who is she?” You asked him quietly, watching the older woman carefully adjust the placement of something.

“That’s Cai Lanying.”

You waited for him to give you further explanation, but he was silent again as his eyes never left the robot, seemingly scrutinizing every detail. With a sigh, you wrote down her name, with a side note of ‘keep out of article.’ Kunhang stood up, and your eyes followed him as he grabbed something from a cart off to the side before returning to the workbench. It looked like a remote control of some kind, and you watched with great interest as he pressed the ‘on’ button.

The robot whirred to life, two purple LEDs blinking like eyes as it waited for his next command.

Kunhang set a piece of origami paper down in front of it, positioning it exactly before speaking clearly, “Swan.”

And then two arms extended out from the small robot, delicately picking up a corner of the paper. As it began folding, you watched with pure amazement.

“It’s so cute.”

“Cute?” His eyes shot up from the paper to look at you, a scowl forming across his mouth.

“Yeah, cute,” you held his gaze firmly.

Your staring contest was cut short as the sound of paper ripping came from between you. The robot was still trying to fold, despite now having two pieces of paper in hand instead of one. Kunhang groaned, shutting it off before taking the papers from its grasp. He made a few notes in his own notebook, as did you.

He took his robot in hand, laying it down as he brought out a small laptop from below the workbench. Focused on the screen, he spoke to you again, “I’ll be doing programming for the rest of the day. You’ll probably think it’s pretty boring.”

He was trying to get rid of you.

But unfortunately for him, you weren’t that easy.

“I don’t mind.”

* * *

Kunhang was right, he was inputting codes and tweaking things on his laptop for the rest of the day. And you _were_ kind of bored. Except, every so often, he’d turn the robot on again to see if he’d fixed the bug, and you were delighted for just a few seconds until something inevitably went wrong. You asked him a couple questions about what he was doing, but mainly you kept to yourself, just making simple observations in your notebook about him, the lab, Cai Lanying, and the robot.

“So, does it have a name?”

“What?”

“Your robot. Does it have a name?”

“No.”

After his third extermination of any conversation you tried to start up, you pursed your lips and instead went back to drinking in every last detail of the lab.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but Cai Lanying stood up sometime later, slinging a bag across her shoulder, “I’m heading home for tonight, Wong.”

The man gave a noise of acknowledgement, mumbling something to himself and he furiously hit the backspace on his laptop.

“Bye, Y/L/N,” she said goodbye to you as well.

“Goodnight, Cai Lanying.”

The woman gave you a stern nod before leaving, making you and Kunhang the only people in the lab. It was only a moment later that he shut his laptop, stuffing it into a case before standing and taking out his phone. He stepped back with the camera pointed at the table, and you leaned out of frame.

“What are you doing?”

“I take a picture of my workspace every time I leave the lab. So I know if it’s been messed with while I was gone,” he explained, tucking his phone away as he made his way to the door.

You leapt up to follow him, eagerly keeping pace with him. Now maybe you could get some real answers from him since he wasn’t buried in his work.

“So who exactly is Cai Linyang?” You questioned, following him to the lobby of the building.

“My boss, technically.”

“Technically?”

Kunhang pushed open the front door, the both of you ending up on the sidewalk outside, “She hired me and signs my paychecks, but for the most part I’m allowed to work on whatever I want with no deadlines, parameters, or someone looking over my shoulder.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Genius, remember?” He pointed to himself, arrogant grin coming his face as you held back your eye roll.

“Right,” you needed to focus on the research, no matter what you thought of him. “When did you start working here?”

“That’s confidential.”

“What?”

Kunhang seemed absolutely delighted at your confusion, “Confidential. Is that too big of a word? How about ‘secret?’ You understand that one?”

You clenched your fists, and it took all your willpower not to just deck him in the nose. It seemed as though as soon as you stepped out the door, a switch had been flipped and he was an insufferable bastard again.

“Can I see your phone?”

“Why the hell would I—”

“Do you expect to be able to find me by chance at the lounge enough times for your article?”

Realizing that meant that he was giving you his number, you reluctantly dug your phone out of your pocket. You handed it to him open on a new contact, watching every tap of his fingers carefully to make sure he wasn’t doing anything else. Although he was taking an awfully long time for just his phone number.

“Here,” he offered it back out to you as there was a ding from his own pocket. “I texted myself so I have your number too.”

You took your phone back, fingers bumping his for just a moment. Inconsequential.

“Anyway, which way are you headed?”

“That way,” you pointed to the left. “Why?”

“So I can go the opposite way,” Kunhang said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world before taking off to the right.

* * *

You were in the lounge a couple days later, trying to type up the notes you’d taken when you’d been interrupted. Again. At first it was just Yukhei, who left you alone as he seemed to be taking a nap on the couch. Why he had chosen _here_ to nap was beyond you, but you didn’t care. He was quiet.

Then Dejun and Ten showed up, Sicheng being towed along seemingly against his will. While you were generally happy to see them again, you weren’t too thrilled about your focus being broken. Then they woke Yukhei up, who made the whole affair about ten times louder.

“Y/N, why don’t you sit with us?” Ten called you over from an armchair.

“I’m good, thanks,” you replied from your high-top, rereading the notes you had managed to get copied over previously.

“Either way, I’m glad you came back, Y/N,” Dejun said brightly from behind you, retrieving some snacks for himself and the others. “You want something?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

You barely registered the elevator dinging, announcing the arrival of someone else. If it was Kun, Yangyang, and Kunhang, you might just scream. All seven of them again, that’d just be fucking perfect.

“Shouldn’t you be at the lab?” Ten asked the newcomer, and you knew who it was without even looking at them.

“Shouldn’t you be at the hospital?” Kunhang retorted, but answered his friend’s question nonetheless. “Lunch break.”

“Since when do you spend your lunch breaks here?” Sicheng questioned him suspiciously, and you could see the engineer in your peripheral, approaching you.

Kunhang didn’t answer this time, stopping right beside you, “How’s the article coming?”

“It’d be going so much better if you weren’t here,” you replied through gritted teeth.

“That’s a bit contradictory, considering I’m the subject of it,” he snorted, pointing out your clear fallacy.

“You’re doing an article on Hendery?” Ten called out, and you were happy to have a reason not to look at the man in front of you. And an opportunity to get back at him.

“Yeah, he pretty much begged me to do it. On his knees and everything.”

“No I didn’t!”

“You kind of did.”

Finally, what you had been waiting for. He snapped, “You were just too stupid to realize that I was joking, so I took pity on you—”

“Pity?” You spat out, completely forgetting about your split-second feeling of victory, as well as the others in the room. “ _You’re_ taking pity on _me_? That’s fucking rich coming from the supposed genius who’s been working on an origami robot for two years that can’t even make a frog without ripping the paper to shreds!”

“First of all, it’s only been twenty months! And it’s only a side project, and you know that!”

Finally, one of the others had snapped to their senses. Yukhei stepped between you two, hands out cautiously, “Hey, hey. Let’s take a deep breath, guys.”

You huffed, breaking eye contact with Kunhang to cross your arms and instead glare down his reflection in the TV screen.

“There we go,” Yukhei’s deep voice was calming, and you felt your blood pressure start returning to normal. “Now how about you say sorry, okay?”

There was a long stretch of silence before you finally mumbled, “Sorry, Kunhang.”

“Sorry, Y/N,” he shot back, clearly mocking your own tone of voice.

Despite this, you merely gave his reflection an eye roll before you turned back to your computer screen. The others let out a nearly synchronized sigh of relief as Kunhang dropped onto the couch beside Sicheng. You decided to close your laptop, then took a seat beside Dejun. Even though the conversation was mostly tense, it carried on like most of your previous ones with Kunhang.

* * *

Two weeks later and you were in the middle of a meeting with your professor. The two of you were discussing your piece, a routine check-in for you to get feedback and advice. She had skimmed over your notes and the rough outline of your plan for research and how the finished article would be organized.

“This looks great so far, Y/N,” Professor Fang complimented you. “But this part here, you wrote a name down but then noted that you had to leave it out of the article?”

“Yes, that’s Kunhang’s boss,” you confirmed. “She gave me permission to do my research as long as I kept her name out of the piece.”

“I wonder why,” she mused thoughtfully. “That might be something worth looking into.”

“I’m not sure how that’d work into my article.”

“You’re right, another time. Now, how and why did you decide to do it on this Wong Kunhang?”

You let out a cynical laugh, “Well, I didn’t really—”

Your phone ringing cut you off, and you took a deep breath as you recognized the specific ringtone you’d set for Kunhang.

“I’m so sorry, Professor. I’ll be just a minute,” you apologized, plucking your phone up before retreating to just outside her office door.

Accepting the call, you didn’t bother letting him say anything, immediately hissing, “I’m a little busy right now, Kunhang.”

“Wake up on the wrong side of the bed, Y/N?” His voice was teasing as he replied, irking you even further.

“I don’t have time for this, I’ll call you back.”

“Wait! Tech convention this weekend, I’m going.”

Over the few weeks you’d been researching Kunhang, he’d randomly call you up and tell you something he was doing. He’d never explicitly ask you to go, but you would generally get the gist of why he was telling you. And this tech convention would also be a good way to familiarize yourself with the industry as a whole, too.

“Fine. Text me the details.” And you hung up.

* * *

Later that night, you were in the living room of your apartment, watching trashy rom-coms with your roommates and making fun of them. Finally, something truly relaxing for you to do.

You had just reached into the popcorn bowl sat on Chengxiao’s lap when you hit plastic. Resigned, you picked up the bowl and stood, “I’ll make more popcorn.”

The girls let out grunts of acknowledgement as you walked into the kitchen. You listened to the microwave whirr, watching the bag spin and rise from within. After pouring the popcorn into the bowl, you headed back out to the living room. To find the movie paused and your roommates holding a phone out towards you with mischievous grins.

“What are you two doing?” You raised an eyebrow, realizing as you got closer that it was your phone. “Why do you have my phone?”

“Someone called you,” Xuanyi said as you took it.

“We didn’t answer it, don’t worry,” Chengxiao assured you. “But the caller ID said Ten, isn’t that one of the guys from the VIP lounge?”

You’d accumulated most of the other members’ phone numbers, and of them you were the least surprised that Ten had randomly called you so late at night. Well, Kunhang wouldn’t have shocked you either, but he’d already made his random and unfortunately timed call of the day today.

“Weird,” you opened up the notification, deciding that you might as well call him back.

Ten was ecstatic when he answered, “Y/N! When you didn’t pick up, I thought you might’ve been asleep.”

“Normally I would be,” you checked the time of nearly two in the morning. “But why the hell are you awake?”

“Oh, I just got off a fourteen-hour surgery.”

“Oh my god, you should be sleeping!”

“It’s fine, I always get this weird adrenaline rush right after a surgery before I crash. Which is why I had to call you before I passed out and forgot. Tomorrow… wait, no, tonight? Anyway, we’re throwing a little surprise party, small get-together thing for Yangyang’s birthday at the lounge, and you need to come.”

“Okay, uh sure. Sounds like fun. Are you sure going to be up for it, though?”

“Don’t even worry about me, I’ve done thirty-six-hour surgeries and gone to Yukhei’s runway shows like four hours later. This is nothing.”

“How are you alive?”

“So I’ll see you then! Around eight, okay?”

“Okay, sleep well, Ten.”

“Thanks, bye!” He promptly hung up, not even giving you a chance to give him your own goodbye.

Shaking your head at his rather unhealthy sounding lifestyle, you looked back to your roommates. If you were going to a party at the lounge, that would probably be a long night, and you’d already been up so late.

“I think I’m going to head to bed now, actually. I’ll see you girls in the morning,” you handed the fresh popcorn to Xuanyi, giving each of them goodnight hugs.

“Night!” “Night!”

* * *

A familiar sensation washed over you as you stepped out of your taxi in front of the building. Normally, you could’ve walked, except tonight you were dressed up again. Ten had given you the run-down for the supposed ‘small get-together’ for Yangyang’s birthday. From the dress code alone, it sounded more like the party you had first met them all at, except you weren’t the one being surprised this time. While you weren’t quite as dolled up as you were then, you still weren’t really in a pair of shoes made for walking.

The doorman greeted you jovially, holding the door open for you as usual. You double-checked the time as you stepped onto the elevator. Ten had told you to arrive at eight, then Yangyang and Yukhei would show up closer to eight-thirty. It was 8:08, and you hoped that they wouldn’t end up being early.

At the top floor, you stepped into the lounge space that was becoming nearly like a second home for you. Save for Kunhang’s lab, which you had also been spending a considerable amount of time in. Speaking of, your subject was the first person you had spotted, the cherry red straw he had previously been sipping soda through falling from his mouth when he saw you.

“Close your mouth, you look stupid like that,” you scoffed as you passed by him, and you were maybe a little _too_ happy when you could just see him rolling his eyes.

Your eyes took a moment to look around the space that had been cutely redecorated for the birthday party before they found a pair you’d been looking forward to seeing.

Dejun and Ten were at the high-top you typically sat at where it seemed that most of the food had been set up on. Ten pushed off of it to give you a hug, “Hey, Y/N! You look wonderful!”

“Hey, Ten…” you took in his bright and animated features. “You don’t look dead, somehow.”

“Like we said, dude’s a freaking superhero,” Dejun shook his head, smoothing out the tuck of his shirt for a moment.

Kun and Sicheng emerged from the backroom, bringing with them a couple bottles of champagne and a few empty glasses. They set it down on the center table before joining you. Kun popped a chip in his mouth as he gave you a short once-over.

“Good to see that you’re surviving.”

Well that wasn’t what you were expecting, “What?”

“I meant… grad school must suck, right? You look like you’re surviving pretty well.”

It was moments like these that reminded you just how strange these men were sometimes. With a chuckle, you shook your head, “No, it’s not grad school that’s going to kill me. If anything, it’ll be this freaking research article that does me in, honestly.”

“Oh yeah, aren’t you doing it on Hendery?”

As if Kun had summoned him—which he probably did, considering the room was silent aside from your conversation that wasn’t exactly hushed—Kunhang walked over, impish grin on his face.

“My ears are burning, Y/N.”

“Hopefully it’ll spread and melt your brain,” you give him an unamused smile, fingers clutching tighter around your phone in agitation.

When you were in his lab or at something for his work, he was mostly tolerable. But for some reason, whenever you were in the lounge or around the others, he seemed to have a penchant for pissing you off. And admittedly, you fed right into it.

Ten spoke up, “Hey, Yukhei just texted me. They’ll be at the building in like a minute, we’ve gotta get ready.”

Someone went to turn off the lights as you were ushered behind an armchair and a couple others went behind the bar. You ended up in the dark squished between Ten and Kunhang, holding your breath as the seconds ticked by.

“Hey, what are we even yelling when we pop out?” You whispered to Ten, earning a groan from your other side.

“Oh my god…”

“I will purple nurple you through your damn suit, Kunhang—”

“Kinky—”

“Just ‘Surprise! Happy birthday!’” Ten interjected, halting your quiet bickering. “Now shut up, they’ll be here soon.”

Huffing, you remained quiet, even as pain started radiating out through your arches to the rest of your feet. Squatting in heels for an extended period of time was definitely not something on your ‘10/10 would do again’ list. The elevator dinging brought you out of your pity party as you were practically buzzing with anticipation.

As the lights were turned out, you popped up with the other five men, cheering out ‘surprise’s and ‘happy birthday’s along with the rest of them. The bright smile on Yangyang’s face when he realized what was happening was contagious, your own lips spreading into a wide grin.

“Oh wow! Thank you!” He squealed in excitement, going around to give everyone a grateful hug.

“Happy Birthday, Yang,” your cheeks were hurting when he finally got to you, and you felt him give you a small squeeze.

“Thanks, Y/N!” He said just a bit too loud right next to you ear before darting over to the next person.

* * *

A little later into the night found you tucked into a corner of the couch, heels long discarded in favor of walking on the plush carpets barefoot. Ten and Sicheng were sitting with you, the three of you quietly sipping on your drinks as you enjoyed a small reprieve of silence between the loud and raucous karaoke that had been happening for a good part of the past two hours.

You watched Yangyang and Dejun cackling about something, and you guessed that it was at Kun’s expense, as the older man seemed to be in distress, swatting at them while Yukhei and Kunhang just looked on with amusement.

“This was a really cool thing for you to do for him, Ten,” you blurted out, nudging him with your foot.

Your friend looked confused as he fixed his gaze on you, “What do you mean?”

“You organized it, didn’t you?” You frowned, remembering that he had been the one to give you the details, and had gotten the text when Yukhei and Yangyang were on their way.

“Oh this whole thing? No, it was Hendery’s idea, through and through,” Ten admitted truthfully, entirely catching you off-guard. “Out of all of us, he and Yangyang were always the closest during school. Although you’d never know looking at the two of them now, huh?”

You observed the two men with interest. Yangyang’s face was animated as he rambled on to Kunhang, who looked wholly disinterested in what he was saying. He’d occasionally put in his two cents, but mostly let the other man continue his tangent.

“Hm. I guess I can kind of see it. At least on Yangyang’s part.”

Sicheng surprisingly had his own input to give as well, “He’s the only one that’s completely unfazed by whatever rude shit comes out of Kunhang’s mouth.”

“Meanwhile I explode at the small comment from him,” you sighed, looking down at the beads of condensation running down your glass. You were mostly just disappointed in yourself. It was ridiculous how easily you let Kunhang press your buttons, while Yangyang could just brush everything off and continue on as normal.

“Maybe you should try whatever mental routine Yangyang does to make being around him enjoyable,” Ten suggested, half-joking as your eyes drifted back over to the two friends.

* * *

At the end of the night, you were helping the guys clean up the few things they didn’t want to leave for the staff (i.e., the evidence of Yukhei, Ten, Yangyang, and Sicheng’s impromptu battle with a multitude of the tiny plastic swords used in cocktails that somehow ended up with chips strewn everywhere and a not-very-tiny crack in one of the champagne glasses). Your job was wiping down a table of the chip crumbs. Yangyang came up to you with a garbage bag for you to dump the crumbs into.

“Hey, Yang,” you called his name out softly to keep him from turning away from you, eyes focused on Kunhang, who was picking up some of the champagne glasses to take over to the sink of the bar.

“Hm?” He stopped to look at you attentively as you continued on in a near whisper so that nobody else heard you.

“How do you put up with him? How do you… have fun with him?”

Yangyang didn’t even need to ask who you were talking about, “You just need to ignore the sarcastic comments and whatever crap he says. Read between the lines, I guess. Or just don’t give a crap about anything that anyone says ever. It’s honestly liberating.”

And with a shrug, he waltzed off to allow Dejun to slam-dunk a soaked paper towel into the trash bag. Kunhang suddenly looked up from the bar, catching your eyes for a sharp and breath-taking second before you averted them back to wiping at the already-clean tabletop.

* * *

At the tech conference, you held tight to your press pass, excitedly reading the words over and over. Kunhang had gotten you the pass so you could access more than the average person attending. It was something you’d been dreaming of, it felt like a real start to your career.

“What are you grinning about?” Kunhang asked with disdain as he looked back at you, setting up a few things at the lab’s assigned table.

“You’re going to think it’s dumb,” you sighed, letting go of the pass to let it hang from your neck.

“Probably,” he agreed. “But try me.”

“The press pass,” you admitted as you picked it back up again to look at in wonder.

“Really?”

With a resigned sigh, you crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at him, “You think it’s dumb.”

“A little,” Kunhang had a small smile on his face when he glanced over at you, and for once you’re pretty sure it’s not one of spite.

“I knew it.”

He gestured for you to stand up, “Anyway, c’mere.”

You hesitantly did so, approaching the table as he brought out what you were most excited for. His origami robot that he’d spent the greater part of your time together perfecting. Last you’d seen, it would still rip up any paper given to it. As he brought out the remote control, you saw another figure approaching the table, and gave a small greeting to Cai Lanying.

“Hi, Lanying.”

“Hello, Y/N,” she replied.

You’d gotten familiar enough with her in the time you’d spend at the lab that she called you by your first name, and sometimes the two of you would eat lunch on her break while Kunhang was absorbed in his work.

As she brought her own displays out, you refocused your attention back on Kunhang and his robot. He pressed the ‘on’ button, the familiar purple LEDs blinking in wait. Next, he set a green piece of origami paper in front of it, as you’d seen him do many times.

“Frog,” he ordered clearly, and the robot whirred to life.

It delicately picked up the paper and started folding. You watched with bated breath. Normally by now, it would have been completely torn to shreds, but it kept diligently folding. Finally, it was a little origami frog.

“Ori! Oh my god, I’m so proud of you,” you squealed, picking up the tiny frog in wonderment as you complimented the robot.

“Ori?” Kunhang questioned you, seeming rather confused.

“You don’t have a name for it. So I’ve kind of been calling it Ori in my head.”

You fully expected him to make fun of you, to tell you how stupid it was to name a robot. Instead, when you looked over at him, you could’ve sworn he had a smile that bordered on fond as he hurriedly diverted his eyes from you back to the robot, “Oh, I see. That’s… cute.”

“Are you okay?” You asked with teasing concern, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead mockingly.

He swatted it away, but not before you could feel that his skin _was_ in fact warm. Was he… blushing?

“Who are you and what have you done to my Kunhang?”

“You’re fucking weird,” he rolled his eyes at your dramatics.

A relieved grin comes to your face at the annoyed comment, the familiarity of it bringing an unfamiliar flip-flop of your stomach, “Oh thank god, you’re an insufferable bastard again.”

* * *

By the end of the convention, you’d seen Lanying’s multitude of mind-blowing projects, as well as those of other companies and creators. But for some reason, Kunhang hadn’t brought anything but Ori. You couldn’t exactly say that an origami robot was what you expected of a genius engineer. And he’d said it himself, that was just a side project.

“Hey Kunhang,” you called out to him as you wandered through halls of the nearly-empty convention center.

“Yeah?” He replied, leading the way with a box in his arms.

“What else have you been working on?”

He glanced over his shoulder to look at you questioningly, “What do you mean?”

“You said before that Ori’s just a side project. So what’s you know, your main project?”

“That’s confidential.”

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Oh did you learn what ‘confidential’ means?”

“I will not hesitate to kick your ass.”

“Why do I doubt that?”

The words were barely out of his mouth when you brought your foot up to lightly kick him square in the butt. He stopped in the middle of the ginormous room, mouth agape in a look of shock that quickly turned into one of incredulousness. You blinked at him innocently, suppressing your laughter. With a shake of his head, he continued walking, and you kept up with him easily.

“Anyway, are you done for today?” You asked, this time walking ahead of him to hold the door open for him.

He nodded to you in thanks, stopping on the sidewalk outside the front doors. It was already close to nightfall, and you could feel your stomach growling for the past fifteen minutes as Kunhang and Lanying packed up their table. Now that it was over, really the only thing on your mind was food.

“I think so. Why?”

“I’m hungry.”

Kunhang’s eyebrows shot up in interest, corners of his mouth quirking up a little as he immediately went to tease you, “And what am I supposed to do with this information?”

“Buy me dinner, clearly.”

“You’re interviewing me, isn’t that supposed to be the other way around?”

Glaring at him, you let you a huff, “Let’s compromise: the lounge. Then neither of us have to pay.”

“Deal,” Kunhang agreed, but something seemed off to you. The atmosphere had changed just slightly when you’d suggested going out to dinner. You didn’t like the sudden feeling of unease you got as he tripped over his next words, “I need to drop this off at the lab first. I’ll meet you there, okay?”

“I’ll come with you—”

“No! Just… go on ahead. I’ll be there in a little.”

A slight frown was on your face, which Kunhang would’ve seen if he’d actually look you in the face. But instead, he was practically refusing to look at you, ridiculously focused on the pavement under his feet.

“Alright. How long is a little?”

“A little,” he said, turning on his heel and practically speed walking away from you.

* * *

Two hours was definitely more than ‘a little.’ Especially when they were paired with three unanswered calls from you and seven messages that he left on read. You could feel your blood boiling when you chose to call one last time. You decided that when you inevitably got his voicemail, you’d leave him a much less nice message than your previous three.

Much to your surprise, however, he picked up, “I’m not sorry.”

“Excuse me?” You spat out, imaginary hackles raised in anticipation already.

“I’m not sorry.”

“For leaving me waiting in the lounge for two whole fucking hours without answering my calls or replying to my messages? Your read receipts are on, Kunhang, I know you’ve been reading them.”

“I know my fucking read receipts are on.”

“Then where the fuck are you?”

“Not in the lounge.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Anyway, why did you name my robot?”

“I told you, you didn’t have a name for it,” you rolled your eyes, in utter disbelief at how blatantly he was trying to avoid the situation. “Why aren’t you here?”

“You kicked me in the ass, Y/N. That hurt.”

“You’re avoiding me.”

“No, my ass hurts, so I’m at home resting.”

“ _You’re_ an ass.”

He chuckled, “You have a way with words.”

“I’m hanging up,” you hissed, nearly cracking your phone screen with the brute force that you pressed the ‘end call’ button with.

If you had any less self-control, you would’ve thrown your phone. You felt like such an idiot, more than normal. Sure, Kunhang’s intellect would sometimes make you feel a little stupid when he spoke about concepts and things you couldn’t quite grasp. But he’d never made you feel like such an utter _fool_. Your plan for the night was supposed to be to just order food from the hotel restaurant and have it brought up to the lounge free of charge. But now you didn’t bother.

Storming over to behind the snack bar, you were rummaging through for something to eat when the elevator dinged. You glanced up, hoping that it was anybody but Kunhang. If you saw him right now, you weren’t sure what you’d do, just that it wouldn’t end well.

It wasn’t.

Thankfully, the new arrivals were Yukhei, Kun, and Yangyang, a sight that should have relieved you, but you were still incredibly tense as they approached you. You had just slammed a bottle of soda on the counter when one of them greeted you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Yangyang said enthusiastically. His bright smile that could normally get you to smile as well did nothing to help your foul mood.

Kun immediately picked up on something being wrong, however, “Did something happen, Y/N?”

“Kunhang happened,” you growled, popping the can open with one hand. “He’s an insufferable bastard that seems to exist just to piss me off. Does he _ever_ just shut the _fuck_ up?”

The three of them exchanged a look of mild unease, some amusement, a little disbelief.

“Hard to, considering he doesn’t really speak in the first place,” Yangyang took a seat at the high-top you normally sat at.

Not giving any shits in that moment, you hopped up onto the bar, legs crossed as you questioned, “What?”

“Hendery’s never been much of a talker, actually.”

“Yeah, because we’re so stupid compared to him that he gets bored of us after like two words. I’ve never seen him hold a lengthy conversation with anybody but his robots,” Kun continued, sounding as if he found this hilarious. “Well, until you came along, Y/N.”

Yukhei pointed out, “Although their conversations always seem to turn into them screaming at each other.”

“I’ve also never heard him raise his voice until she came around,” Yangyang added, your irritation flaring up again.

“Oh, nice to know that he hates me that much,” you mocked enthusiasm before taking a sip of your soda, continuing to listen to your friends.

“If you really hate each other that much, why don’t you just switch your topic?”

Kun’s suggestion was logical. You should’ve thought of that yourself, you should’ve jumped at the prospect of being able to rid yourself of Kunhang. But for some reason, your cheeks flushed, and you stumbled over your words as you messily tried to justify not doing that.

“It’s too late… uhm, for me to find another one, and you know, do a well-written piece on it,” you took a long swig of soda, closing your eyes to avoid eye contact and hoping the cool drink would lessen the pinkness of your skin.

Your friends exchanged another look, then a unanimous sigh and shrug.

“Okay,” Yukhei accepted your reasoning, hopping up beside you on the bar. “But why specifically are you pissed off at him now?”

“He’s so… out of touch, with people, and with life. Like tonight, he freaking blew me off to sit at home and do nothing.”

Yangyang nearly choked on his own throat to ask, “You guys had a date?”

“No,” you shot your friend down, scowling despite the flip-flop of your stomach at that idea. “He had a tech convention today and afterwards we agreed to meet up here for dinner. For the interview, obviously. And that was two hours ago.”

They all let out hisses through clenched teeth, recoiling and cringing at this revelation.

“Yikes,” Kun whistled lowly. “Yeah, that was a dick move.”

“And you want to know his reasoning? Because his ass hurt.”

“Why did his ass hurt?”

“I kicked it.”

“Okay, we’re going to skip over that part because I’m not sure if I want an explanation,” Yukhei shook his head. His voice turned much softer when he addressed you next, “So what are you going to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your piece isn’t done, and you’re not going to change your topic. So… what are you going to do?”

You let out a deep and heavy sigh, half-mumbling to yourself in pity, “Carry on like normal, I guess. Pretend it didn’t happen. Never get my hopes up again about him acting like a normal human being who actually cares about other human beings.”

When you looked around at the others, you saw Yangyang shifting uncomfortably in his chair. In front of him, his phone screen was lighting up, and you felt bad about looking, but you did. It was an incoming call. From Hendery.

“You can pick it up,” you told him with a disinterested shrug, bringing your soda back up to your lips.

Seeming reluctant, he did so, “Hey, Hendery.”

Yangyang put it on speakerphone before setting it back down on the table. Clearly, he wanted you to hear whatever was about to happen.

“Yang, I need your help.”

“With what?”

“I fucked up.”

“Hendery… what did you do?”

“I was an asshole.”

“You’re going to need to be more specific here.”

“I don’t…” he paused before letting out a small screech of distress. “I can’t tell you.”

You shared a glance with Yangyang, who seemed much less confused than you were.

“Got it. Have you tried apologizing?”

“Well, no.”

“I recommend that.”

“I don’t think that’ll work.”

“How badly did you fuck up?”

“More than usual.”

Yukhei’s voice was suddenly by your ear, and you nearly fell off the bar in surprise as he whispered, “I think he’s talking about you.”

“You think?” You replied quietly, still unsure yourself.

Kunhang was rude to everyone he met on a daily basis, why would your interaction stick out to him at all?

When you refocused on the other conversation, Kunhang was talking again.

“I’ve just never dealt with someone like her before. I feel so _stupid_ when I talk to her, like my brain wants to say one thing but then something much worse ends up coming out of my mouth.”

Yangyang seemed overjoyed at this revelation, “How about you tell her that?”

“Ha…” he laughed weakly on the other end of the line, sounding so defeated you weren’t sure if it was actually Kunhang or not. “I wish I could.”

The boy picked up the phone, holding it out towards you, “Well, actually—”

You shook your head fervently in alarm, eyes widening as you refused to accept it, remaining as silent as ever. Yangyang gave you one more pleading look that you rejected, then he put the phone back on the table.

“Actually what?”

“Nothing. Never mind. I forgot what I was going to say.”

“You’re fucking weird. I’m sorry about this whole phone call, I have no idea what that was. Just forget it all, okay? I’m going to sleep this off.”

“Hend—”

“Bye, Yangyang.”

And he hung up.

The lounge was dead silent in the aftermath of the phone call. You all looked at each other in a silent conversation that conveyed surprise, shock, smugness, pity, and anticipation.

Then your own phone rang, you were so desperate to bring it out of your pocket that you nearly dropped it. Your hopes were quickly deflated when you saw that it was just one of your roommates.

“Hey, Xiao,” you feigned cheerfulness as you answered, not missing how the other three men were disappointed too.

“Are you coming home soon? It’s baking night, remember?” She reminded you, and you almost cursed yourself. How could you forget your monthly tradition of spending one night together with your roommates to try your hand at some new baking recipe that usually never ended well?

“Oh yeah! Yeah, I’m heading home right now. I’ll be there in like fifteen minutes, okay?”

“Twelve.”

“Fourteen.”

“Thirteen.”

“Alright, I’ll sprint.”

“You better,” she said, sounding as threatening as possible. Which wasn’t very, admittedly, but you still took it to heart.

“Bye, Chengxiao.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

With that, you ended the call, hopping off the bar, “I’ve got to go, guys. Thanks, and I’ll see you later.”

They gave you somber goodbyes, and you started your way home. Mediocre baking skills and wonderful friends were exactly what you needed right now.

* * *

You didn’t see Kunhang—or anybody from the VIP lounge—for another two weeks. Most of your time was spent in your college library, at your part-time job, or with your roommates and friends. In fact, you actually had no plans to meet up with Kunhang again until he texted you one morning completely out of the blue.

[insufferable bastard: lab, thirty minutes]

And thus began your usual schedule of being at his every beck and call, all for the sake of your journalism piece.

* * *

Kunhang was unusually cooperative today in the lab. He was working on a new project, and would answer every question you had, in complete sentences, _and_ offer extra information. Your hand was nearly cramping up with all the notes you were taking, and by the time he called for a break, you were buzzing with excitement and itching to add them to your piece.

“Lunch?” Kunhang offered as he set aside his laptop, resting his chin in his hand as looked to you attentively.

You were a little caught off-guard, but happily agreed, “Sure. Where?”

“Here,” he said in a ‘duh’ tone, taking his phone out of his pocket. “What’s your delivery order?”

Your delivery arrived fairly soon after he ordered, and soon you had your food containers spread out between you two on the workbench. Despite ordering your own dishes, you were sharing all the food, taking a bite here, a sip there in a mutual understanding. As you ate, your mind wandered to the man across from you.

Why did he suddenly text you again? Why was he acting like… a normal person? Would he bring up what happened?

And most importantly, your question for yourself: why were you so happy just to be around him again?

You looked over to him thoughtfully but remained quiet. Either he had seen you glancing at him so often, or had gotten a sudden spark of inspiration himself, as he hurried to swallow whatever food was in his mouth to speak.

“Where’s your notepad?”

“Uh, here,” you pulled it out of where you had tucked it into your bag, figuring he wanted to give you more information for your article.

He snatched it from your grip, a mischievous grin on his face when you cried out in indignation.

“Hey!”

“You’re always asking me the questions,” he cocked an eyebrow devilishly, grabbing a pencil and leaning away from your hands as they tried in vain to retrieve your notebook. “I think it’s time I interview you.”

Sitting squarely back down, you gave up trying to grab your notes from him. He was flipping to a fresh page as you asked, “Why?”

“Would you rather I just call you an idiot again?”

“Kind of, actually.”

At his peeved face, you smiled to yourself and relented, “Okay, fine. Interview me.”

He immediately scribbled something down, the tip of his tongue poking out as he squinted his eyes in way too much concentration for the single word he wrote.

“Is that supposed to be me?”

“Yep!”

“I don’t look like that!”

“Yeah, you do.”

“No, I don’t!”

“You do.”

“I d—”

“Shut up, it’s cute,” he almost immediately coughed as soon as the word came from his mouth, rushing to cover it up with his first question. “Why’d you become a journalist?”

You briefly contemplated questioning the first thing he said. But what answer did you expect, or want? Uncertainty flooded your mind, so you decided to ignore it and just focus on the much easier question at hand.

“I was always interested in a lot of things, but never enough to want to actually make a career out of it. But I realized that as a research journalist, I could look into and learn about all these fleeting interests of mine, and only commit a few hours, or weeks to it instead of my whole life.”

Kunhang nodded thoughtfully, continuing to take notes, “And what’s your favorite soda?”

“That’s a dumb question.”

“Is that supposed to be me?”

“What do you think?”

“Is that still me?”

You sighed in mock exasperation, adding in an eye roll too, “God, you’re thick.”

He shook his head, tapping the eraser to his mouth thoughtfully. Your eyes followed the movement, watching the pink eraser tap against his equally pink lips. Whatever he said next didn’t even register in your head, and you shot your eyes up back to his.

“Hm?”

“The press pass…” Kunhang repeated slowly, and your face heated up even more at his teasing. “Why did that mean so much to you?”

You took your time to think, slowly chewing on some of your food as you mulled it over. It’s not like you had some complex reason attached to a tragic backstory, it just made you happy.

“Because it did. I mean…” you stumbled over your thoughts for another few seconds, trying to get the right words to describe it. “That’s my goal, right? To be a journalist, to get a press pass everywhere. That’s my gateway to everyone and everything I need for my articles. My career is symbolized in that press pass. It was my goals in a tangible object.”

The man across from you hadn’t written a single thing down as you spoke, hanging on to and enraptured by every word.

At his lack of response, you crossed your arms defensively, mumbling, “You think it’s lame.”

“No, no!” Kunhang nearly shouted in his rush to reassure you. “No, it’s not. That’s… wonderful. How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Be able to enjoy some of the simplest things in a deeper way.”

You were most definitely blushing now, and struggled to answer in a level tone, “What? I don’t- I don’t know.”

Kunhang frowned, and before either of you could say anything—not like you were coming up with something intelligible in that moment anyway—the door was opened.

“Wong, you know you’re not supposed to eat in the lab you absolute fucking barbarian!”

“Hi, Lanying,” you waved to her as you slurped up a noodle.

“Hi, Y/N,” she replied sweetly before turning her wrath back on Kunhang. “Wong, you better clean this up!”

* * *

[insufferable bastard: park, now]

Several nights later, you were already half-asleep when Kunhang texted you that, your eyes squinting against the harsh light of your phone screen. Sighing, you dragged yourself off the couch, stuffing your feet into a pair of shoes and grabbing a jacket.

“Where are you going?” Xuanyi questioned from the kitchen table where she had been eating a late dinner.

“The park, apparently,” you answered, tucking your keys into your pocket. “I’ll be back later, don’t wait up for me.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Cool.”

Despite the request of ‘park’ being vague, you knew which one he meant. The one just down the street from the lab that he had pointed out off-handedly one day on one of his short breaks. You’d asked if he’d ever been there, to which he retorted with an ‘obviously not.’

The night air was cool, but the wind was warm enough. Your walk to the park was short, and Kunhang was easy enough to spot, he was the only guy standing by himself looking around expectantly. Not to mention that he just radiated insufferable bastard energy.

“One of these days I’m going to say no,” you scoffed as you approached him, arms crossed over your chest.

“Sorry, uh thanks for coming whenever I ask,” Kunhang acknowledged your comment, to your surprise. “I realize now that I’ve been kind of ridiculous.”

“Anyway, what are we doing? Is this for your new project?”

“No. Uh, do you remember what we were talking about the other day? At lunch.”

You frowned thoughtfully, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to think, “Uhm, why I became a journalist?”

“No, the press pass, and how you can find something so simple to be something great.”

“Oh, oh, right. So why are we here?”

“The park is something simple, right?”

“You really want me to teach you how to… enjoy the park?”

Kunhang’s bashful nod caught you off-guard. You’d never, in your whole time of knowing him, seen him embarrassed, ashamed, or shy in the slightest. But you’d bet real money that if it were brighter and you could see his face better, his cheeks would be pink.

“Okay,” you shrugged, reaching out to take his arm.

He froze up for a moment, and you pinched his upper arm to show your annoyance, “Relax, we’re going to take a walk.”

“Oh. Okay.”

You lead the way down the walkway that wove around through the rather expansive park. Kunhang seemed to have a difficult time matching your leisurely pace, as you’d feel a tug on your arm every few seconds. Once he’d gotten the speed down, it wasn’t long until he broke the quiet moment.

“What now?”

Instead of finding it annoying, as you might have normally, you instead chuckled. It was amusing how the kid genius didn’t know how to enjoy a visit to the park.

“Now you shut up. Listen to the sounds, feel the wind on your cheek, count your steps, let your mind wander, whatever. As long as you don’t bother me.”

“Ah.”

Following your own advice, you continued your slow pace. You listened to the rustle of leaves, Kunhang’s steady breathing, and the distant city sounds; the wind caressed your exposed skin, casting away a few meddlesome pieces of hair from your face; 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4; you thought about the groceries you’d need to be buying tomorrow, played one bit of a song several times over, relived your high school graduation, and contemplated Kunhang. You’d written plenty about the lab and Ori, but you still weren’t quite sure how you wanted to portray him in your article. The cold, distant genius, the insufferable bastard who can never shut up, or whatever this version of him was.

As you came towards the end of the park, you tugged on Kunhang’s arm to stop him.

You looked at him expectantly, “So?”

“That was… peaceful.”

“You thought it was boring.”

“A little. I’m sorry!”

You chuckled, patting his arm, “It’s fine, thanks for trying.”

“I was able to think about some stuff, though,” Kunhang said, taking his arm back to be able to fully face you.

“That’s nice.”

“Can I tell you what I was thinking about?”

“Sure,” you shrugged nonchalantly, despite the anxiety crawling its way through every fiber of your being.

Kunhang looked nervous, wringing his hands as he shifted his weight from one leg to another frequently. That, paired with that fact that he specifically _asked_ if he could share his thoughts with you instead of blurting out whatever rude thing he wanted like usual, definitely worried you.

“This is going to take me a second, to make sure the wrong thing doesn’t come out,” he forewarned, and a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you nodded in acknowledgement.

“Take your time.”

“Okay, so… I’m terrible at expressing myself and just feelings other than, you know, disdain, disgust, all that.”

“I’m aware.”

He gave you a look, but continued nonetheless, “Yeah. Uhm, yeah, I’m bad at it. And I’ve never really wanted to… become good at it? Like, I never had a reason to try to be nice, or tell people when they make me feel good,” deep breath, “and now that I’m trying, I think I might puke.”

“Not on me, please.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve done to you,” he admitted, hand reaching up to scratch behind his ear. “I’m sorry about ditching you that night at lounge, by the way. Truly, that was so, so shitty. And I haven’t brought it up until now, because I’m a coward, but— oh my god, this is going terribly.”

“No, no,” you went to wipe his self-deprecations away. “Keep going, you’re doing great, Kunhang.”

A smile that bordered on pained came to his mouth, “You… you’re. The good feelings, I was talking about earlier, I get those, uh, you know, when I’m with you. Or, if I think about you, too. Like… warm fuzzies in my chest and I feel nauseous but in a good way, if that’s possible? Am I making sense right now? Because I feel like I’m not making any sense whatsoever.”

“Kunhang.”

“Hm?”

“Wong Kunhang.”

“Yes?”

“You’re stupid,” you couldn’t contain your laughter, not necessarily laughing at him, but at the entire conversation. “You’re so, so stupid.”

You reached out to take both his hands in yours, still giggling, “So stupid, Kunhang. You’re… oh my god, you dumbass.”

“Why are you saying that like it’s a good thing?” He chuckled hesitantly and awkwardly, but not letting go of your hands thankfully. “And why do I feel happy even though you’re calling me a dumbass?”

“Idiot, that’s called a crush.”

“What?”

“Crush. Is that too big of a word for you? How about… having feelings for someone?” You were having way too much fun teasing him, enjoying every confused and bashful reaction from him you got.

He ducked his head a little, avoiding eye contact, “I feel so stupid when I talk to you.”

“Seriously? _I_ feel stupid talking to _you_! Kid genius robot builder with an IQ higher than my student debt.”

“Why are you so happy about this, Y/N?”

“Because, stupid,” you squeezed his hands, waiting until he was looking at you again. “I like you too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it surprised me too.”

Kunhang rolled his eyes, “You’re annoying.”

“ _You’re_ the one with a _crush_ on _me_.”

He huffed indignantly, and you let out another small laugh before letting go of his hands and wrapping your arms around his neck. After his initial shock, he hugged you back, arms holding steadfast around your waist as you felt a new warmth blooming out through your chest.

* * *

“Happy Birthday!”

It was some time later, and you were back in the VIP lounge. Due to conflicting schedules, you were celebrating one birthday late and one early. Kun was on a flight during his birthday, and Yukhei would be in Nicaragua for his, so the eight of you found a happy middle to come together and celebrate.

You settled back into the couch with your glass of champagne, taking a small sip as Yangyang immediately started making fun of his friends. Well, just one of them.

“Kun, how does it feel to be one year closer to death?”

“Yangyang, how does it feel to be one comment closer to death?”

Chuckling at your friends’ banter, you set your glass aside. Kunhang’s hand had settled on your thigh just a moment earlier, and you quietly rested yours on top. He turned his hand over to be able to lace his fingers through yours, looking over at you with a fond smile.

“Y/N,” Dejun snapped your focus away from your boyfriend for a moment, and you looked to your friend attentively.

“Hm?”

“How’d your article end up turning out? Aside from the obvious.”

You laughed lightly, “Good, really good. My professor’s not going to publish it, unfortunately. Something about a conflict of interest. So I also didn’t get the internship. But she _did_ hire me after graduation. My first day is the beginning of next month.”

“That’s awesome!” They all congratulated you, and you couldn’t keep the grin off your face at their exaltations.

It was magnified by a tenfold when Kunhang suddenly kissed your cheek, and you giggled as you swatted him away.

“I think I miss when they’d just scream at each other,” Sicheng mumbled as stood up from his seat on Kunhang’s other side to pour himself another glass of champagne.

“I don’t,” Yukhei snorted, probably reliving the multiple arguments he’d had to break up between you two.

Ten brought it back to the precious topic, “Wasn’t there a catch to your professor hiring you or something?”

“Yeah,” you looked down at your lap in mild embarrassment. “Don’t become romantically involved with any of my stories again.”

“I mean, why would you want to?” Kunhang was practically puffing his chest out, and you kicked his ankle with your foot.

“I’m thinking of doing an article on Yukhei next, actually—”

“No you’re not,” he tapped you back with his foot.

“Maybe I am.”

“You’re not.”

“And how would you know?”

Kunhang leaned over to murmur something in your ear, and you smacked his chest as scandalized giggles bubbled up from your mouth. You could just barely hear your friends over the blood roaring your ears as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him to peck your cheek again.

“We don’t want to know what he just said, do we?” Yangyang asked in a hushed voice.

“Considering he whispered it and Y/N’s currently a tomato, definitely not,” Kun replied, and if you were looking, you would have seen a unanimous shiver of disgust run down their spines.

But you were still playfully struggling in your boyfriend’s grip. You finally gave up your mock attempt to flee, settling further into him and lacing your fingers with those of his hand that was settled by your shoulder. Bringing your entwined hands a little closer to your mouth, you pressed a gentle kiss to his before letting them hang again.

* * *

At the end of the night, you found yourself wandering the streets with Kunhang. A little while ago, he’d told you that while walks still weren’t enjoyable for him, he loved walking with you. You didn’t press him for more information, just happy to be able to enjoy something with him.

Hand-in-hand, you stopped him at a familiar park, “Hey, look where we are.”

When you looked over to him expectantly, you found him smiling widely, eyes focused on you. You felt a small blush creeping up your neck as you teasingly interrogated him, “And what are you grinning about?”

“This,” he squeezed your hand before swinging your intertwined hands. “I finally found something so simple that I love on a deeper level. Holding your hand.”

A happiness you’d never felt before struck you. You grabbed the back of his neck, crashing your lips onto his enthusiastically. Kunhang eagerly kissed you back, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek tenderly.

It wasn’t the first time you’d kissed him, but it was the first time that when you pulled back, these three words tumbled from your mouth, “I love you.”

He had a nearly blinding grin on his face as he went to kiss you one, two more times before he repeated it, “I love you.”


End file.
